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We Called Him Love

There was a knock on the door and without
A doubt in my mind,
I knew it was love;
And as always he wasn't alone
Bringing his usual friends:
Heartbreak, apathy and leave-me-the-f***-alone.
I never believed in psychics or tarot cards, or anything
Predicting the future;
But I always know when he's coming for a visit.
Almost every other week now.
Oh how terrible it is for me to sit here
And not offer my guests anything.
“Water?” I say.
No just the usual.
So they get just that, the usual:
A piece of my heart washed down with my tears.
They eat, they finish, and then the games begin.
“You couldn't have thought we wouldn't have
any fun,” say Love with a smile.
He and his friends hold up pictures.
“These are our victims; past and present.”
There were picture of those I once thought I knew,
And not to my surprise there was one of my in everyone.
So Love laughs at the look of shock of my face,
And tells me “It's time to choose.”
I walk up to heartbreak;
Grab hands with Apathy,
And give myself to leave-me-the-f***-alone, because I know
They'll make it easy when the cycle starts again.





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